Out of Africa Animal Park

MIXED COMPANY

At Out of Africa, a unique wild animal park northeast of Phoenix, big cats of various and sundry stripes live and play together Mowgli, the jungle boy of Rudyard Kipling's pen, recites the secret Law of the Jungle in the mysterious tongues of all the most feared beasts: “We be of one blood, ye and I.” Bagheera, a wise black leopard, listens and approves, knowing that Mowgli's ability to deliver the Law renders him “reasonably safe against all accidents in the jungle . . . .” The man across the table brings this passage in The Jungle Book to life. He quietly describes a “primal world apart from civilized society.” I see the wolf boy clinging to Bagheera's back while the panther runs through the black night whispering jungle philosophy.

This man speaks quietly and doesn't blink. His name is Dean Harrison, and he and his wife, Bobbi, own and operate Out of Africa, home for more than 30 giant cats,

MIXED COMPANY

including tigers, lions, jaguars, and leopards, that share their habitats. The cats help raise each other's cubs, share food, strike lifelong loyalties, and form protective bonds. This doesn't happen in the wild. Big cats of different species don't mingle.

Located on the Fort McDowell Indian Reservation near Fountain Hills and the Verde River, Out of Africa harbors not only cats, but snakes, lizards, birds, and more. A few of the animals, especially the cats, were found diseased and near starvation because while cubs they were kept as "pets" by owners who hadn't an inkling how to care for them.

Tonight is one of three special evenings held throughout the year at the 30-acre animal park. Out of Africa's members an auxiliary group that helps fund the facility gather for dinner, unique "encounters" with the cats, and a camp-out in the compound just feet away from the roaring nocturnal beasts. It's early June and warm, although a breeze from the Verde, 100 yards away, tinges the night with coolness. The area is teeming with desert wildlife and fragrant cultivated wildflowers.

"When you leave the outside and enter the habitat, you leave civilization behind," Dean says to me after dinner. His eyes are steel blue; his features sharp.

"You enter a primal world. It is difficult for us to understand this world because of its simplicity. The world outside the habitat is filled with complexities. There are no complexities when you enter the primal world. All that matters is to be. When I walk in, all that can matter to me is to be. Survival depends on this. The rules in this world are completely different."

When he was seven years old and began collecting reptiles, Dean says, he realized he had a special gift for understanding predatory animals a gift that enables him to think like them, anticipate their actions, and virtually lie down with them.

There are several terms that are taboo at Out of Africa. "Cage" is one. Animals here live in spacious habitats. The animals are not "pets." They are not "domesticated." The animals are not "tame." The Harrisons make it clear that, no matter how affectionate they may seem, the animals are wild by nature and inclined to follow their primal predatory instincts at any time. The Harrisons were, for several years, the only park personnel allowed in the habitats. Entry by other personnel is limited; by non-personnel, forbidden.

The Harrisons do not stage animal "shows." They have animal encounters very intense animal encounters. The first of the night is in a large desert habitat containing a full-grown Siberian tiger, H.G. Saginaw, who seeks comfort by sucking on Bobbi's finger. And there's Passage, a Bengal tiger who was found several years ago in a stolen rental car in downtown Chandler. There's Eclipse, a black panther who can jump to the height of three men from a four-legged standing position.

And there's Saja, an African Chinese leopard (a cross of two subspecies) who raised Saginaw. She's agitated and pacing the boundaries of the mixed-cat habitat. Suddenly she eyes photographer Richard Maack, whose camera lens is positioned close to the habitat's wire fence. The leopard freezes in a crouch, then leaps at him with terrifying ferocity, her paws constricting and reaching right through the fence to swat at his camera. Saja roars, sounding like two granite mountains smashing together in a canyon.

"That's it, that's enough," commands Bobbi. Saja roars again at Maack with the same intensity but then turns away and continues her pacing. She's "come into season," Bobbi explains, noting that it is the period before mating.

"She goes through hormonal changes, and it seems a little drastic, but this is more drastic than other times," Bobbi tells the audience. "She literally doesn't like anyone right now. She went after Dean neck-high today." Next we move to the lion's habitat.

"She's going to come jumping!" Bobbi shouts at Dean.

Shanta, a six-year-old African lioness, is tensed and waiting for Dean to retrieve a ball she's knocked from her platform.

"Dean, you're going to get it I guarantee it," Bobbi says as he heads into a dark area of the habitat to search for the ball.

Shanta, who weighs 400 pounds, flies off her platform and bounds toward Dean as he emerges from the darkness. Dean bolts toward the wire fence surrounding the habitat, braces himself, and pushes into the fence, his back to the audience.

"Let's get a feeder here now," Bobbi orders into her microphone. A man with a bucket of raw meat rushes to the fence and tries to distract the lioness. She ignores him. Shanta leaps up and, on two legs, pins Dean to the fence and roars into his face.

The lioness drops down, and Dean relaxes a little and grins, but, suddenly, she's up on hind legs again, pawing and jaw-snapping at him. Then she's down on all fours for the second time. As Dean starts to move away, Shanta jerks back toward him and vaults against him a third time.

"Are you going to feel this in the morning?" a spectator yells at Dean.

"I feel it right now," he answers with a shaky laugh.

The lioness suddenly loses all interest in Dean and leaves him against the fence.

Shanta has had four cubs since coming to Out of Africa when she was six months old. She was found in a Kingman motel room, emaciated and covered with ringworm. Her owner was a cross-country truck driver who kept her as a pet.

Still in the lion's habitat, the Harrisons introduce Java, the king of the pride. After feeding, the Black Mane Rhodesian lion weighs up to 800 pounds, Dean says, noting that the average lion weighs 375 pounds; and the largest ever recorded, 835 pounds.

"He is the king of this habitat and the undisputed king of the park," Dean explains. "That's important. It means that, to the other cats, what he says goes. What he says is law over the leopard, over the cougars, over the tigers over everyone. This is because he is the biggest, and he is able to carry out his law."

Java, a massive, muscular beast, nudges Dean, who kneels into him. The lion rubs heads with the man.

Later, during coffee and before we set up our cots and sleeping bags around the compound for the night, Dean describes a near tragic encounter he had recently with Java.

Dean was inside Java's habitat, and the lion decided, for its own reason, to "possess"

the man, to show him who was the boss.

The most important tactic Dean has to protect himself against harm however unintended by the cats is to remain standing. If he is knocked down and positioned lower than the cats, he is vulnerable to attack because he has been "weakened" before them. If a cat tries to take him down, Dean braces himself with his back flattened against a fence or platform.

This time with Java, he wasn't able to maneuver himself into a protected position. Java knocked him down and laid his 800pound body over him. In seconds the breath was squeezed out of Dean; he was fighting for air. Luckily his microphone was attached when he gasped for help. Several workers heard the faint cries and rushed to the habitat. They coaxed the lion off Dean.

It wasn't that Java wanted to hurt him, Dean explains. Java wanted to own him, to take possession of him, and show the man who was the true king in the primal world.

After the encounters, the auxiliary Amembers head off in different directions to prepare their beds for the night. They seem to have their favorite cats and arrange their sleeping areas near them. The cats are alert and watch as we prepare our places.

Elizabeth Packard, the park's public relations representative, explains that many of the members visit the park frequently and sit for hours watching the cats.

"They say it releases tension," she explains. "There's something about watching the cats that helps them relax."

Before I slip into my sleeping bag, I sit down before the habitat that contains the angry leopard, Saja. It's not relaxing to me. It's unsettling because I get a hint of myself thousands of years ago, living among these ferocious beasts. Were I identified as prey, I wouldn't have a chance for survival. Running, climbing, swimmingnothing would save me but a sudden change in the beast's disposition.

I move to the lion habitat and watch Java and recall what Bagheera told the wolf boy. An animal cannot stare into the eyes of a man without turning away, so man is a natural enemy. I stare at Java, and, yes, he turns away.

As I head back to my sleeping area only a few feet from Java, I recall another law of Kipling's Jungle: nothing, especially killing, occurs without reason. I think about this and how it compares to the civilized world as I zip up my bag. Then I fall into deep sleep among the beasts.

WHEN YOU GO

Out of Africa is 25 minutes north of OScottsdale, two miles north of the intersection of Shea Boulevard and State Route 87. It's open from 9:30 A.M. to 5 P.M., Tuesday through Sunday, and all major holidays except Christmas.

Evening encounters are held Saturdays between May 29 and October 2.

Admission is $8.95 for adults, $3.95 for children four through 12 (children three and younger are admitted free of charge), and $7.95 for senior adults. You can have breakfast, lunch, or dinner at The Kalahari Cafe. For more information, write Out of Africa, P.O. Box 17928, Fountain Hills, AZ 85269; or call (602) 837-7779.